Abject Reject Abandonment
by Saioji Yuko
Summary: I don't want you to leave again. Even if it's selfish, and only for my own sake.. RanOmi


_"And I have the sense to recognize_

_I don't know how to let you go_

_Every moment marked_

_With apparitions of your soul."_

He was alone, but for the shadows climbing up the walls of the nearby buildings, and the trees that hung heavy with blossoms all around him. He saw no humans, felt no animal presence near. The crows had stopped their incessant chatter, as if they respected his need for silence, his need for a peace that could be found nowhere but here. Here, in this dew-wet paradise at midnight, it was like the world had realized what it meant to him to stand there, and acted accordingly, a moment of silence for the sakes of those for whom he mourned.

The moon was full, rising high above him, its brilliant white light illuminating the park. He felt that pale, fragile light on his face, and looked up into the moon's face, as if he were still searching for something, as if he still needed to take his strength from that holy-seeming being above. But he had long since lost the reason for his fight, though he had never found the strength to stop fighting. It seemed enough to continue on with this bloody work, to continue on performing the same sins, exactly as he always had.

None of them had been able to get out of it, for whatever reasons. They had continued just as he had, and probably some of their justifications were the same as his: Where else would he go, what else could he do? So many lies they told themselves, in the effort to convince themselves to stay. Often, he wondered why. He never really found an answer.

"Why did you stay?" A soft voice carried on the wind. He turned to its source, noting with appreciation that the other had made no sound except for that question, but didn't bother to hide their presence from him once they had made themselves known. Red and white sneakers scuffed the grass beneath them almost nervously; a boy caught writing something naughty on the chalkboard. His hands were folded before him, arms crossed over his chest, uncomfortable with being discovered as the spy he was. "Why didn't you leave… once everything was over?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, voice a low tenor, bewildered, sad. He picked at the fraying sleeve of his trench coat, a nervous habit he had never had before, that had seemed to sneak up on him one day, and he hadn't been able to rid himself of it yet. He thought he might have picked it up from Hidaka, the fidgety bastard, he was always in motion, and he did tend to mess with things (loose threads, pins, computers, anything that was within reach, really) when he had to stay still. "It's not like anyone cares."

"Your sister does," the innocent-looking blonde boy, blue eyes and slight frown showing concern, said softly. It sounded as if he might have wanted to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut, keeping his eyes on his redheaded friend. He looked down finally, gaze gracing the dew-wet grass. "Sakura-chan does, too…"

The older of the two fell silent at the other's words, letting the cool night swallow them up like so many wispy dreams, dropping back into that blue silence so thick you could drown in it. The boy watched the ground, each bit of grass clearly outlined by the moon above, as if the clear moon was trying to convince him that he needn't hide behind masks on this night. The man watched the sky, iced violet eyes, the color of snow in the shadows, finding a kind of sympathy in the darkest blue-violet heavens that seemed always to be looking down on him. As if they were watching over him, protecting him even as everything else fell apart around him, a city made of playing cards, tumbling down at a breath. When he finally found the voice to speak, he turned his eyes back to the earth, back to that boy that stood before him, like a figure from his lost childhood, something he would never recover. Even if that boy was not innocent, not at all, he still remained a youth who could smile, and laugh at bad jokes. He had long ago lost that ability.

"It would be cowardly to leave everyone else there," he said finally, not meeting the other's eyes, knowing the words to be a carefully crafted lie. But the angelic boy before him merely nodded, understanding the message within the message, and stepped forward, brief flash of smile casting a brightness to his face that the moonlight could never touch.

"Aya-kun…" The boy's voice was soft still as he stepped towards him, carefully avoiding the flowers that littered the park's grassy floor as if they were landmines, facing him squarely. He stared at him for a moment, blue eyes dark with something else entirely. He leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. "…I don't want you to leave, either… even if it's selfish, and only for my sake…"

He never said the words, "I love you." He never even said clearly that he cared for him as more than a friend. But Omi's kiss stung on his cheek for a long time afterwards, and he knew that he wouldn't be leaving the boy for a long, long time.

"_A glowing ember_

_Burning hot_

_Burning slow_

_Deep within I'm shaken by the violence_

_Of existing for only you._"

-- Sarah McLachlan, "**Do What You Have to Do**"


End file.
